“I think it’s a good idea,” I say as she returns the dusty bucket to its place on the cobweb-draped shelving unit. “If anybody comes to my house, they won’t be able to find a thing.”
Mae nods. Then she reaches over to me and takes something out of my pocket. It’s my visor.
“We should add this, too,” she says. “Just in case.”
I am reluctant to give up my visor since it’s been pretty useful, but in the end I see Mae’s point that it’s one more signifier that, if found, will keep any villains scouring around my mother’s house. That’s the last thing I want. My house needs to be a sanctuary, not a war zone.
Mae clicks the bucket shut and stands up, clapping her hands together to rid them of dust.
“Nobody will think to look for our supplies here,” she tells me. “Nobody even knows that I exist. Not even Austin.”
“He never saw you using powers,” I reply. Then I let out a huge breath of air. “I feel better.”
“Good,” Mae smiles slightly at me. “We’re effectively under cover. Until the time comes.”
“Yes. Until the time comes. You know that time will come.”
She nods. Then, “What are you going to do until then?”
I only need a moment to think it over, then I give her a solemn grin.
“I’m going to do what I wanted to do from the beginning of this whole mess. I’m going to finish up my father’s saga.”
31
Decisions
“I’m very sorry to hear that Austin won’t be moving forward on the project with you,” says Mr. Crichton as I take a seat in his office. Bright sunlight streams through the windows and the sky is a brilliant blue. Planes pass by in the distance, leaving white trails streaking across the canvas.
Crichton sets his hands down on his desk. “He sent me his resignation letter last week, you know. Something about a death in the family.”
I press my lips together.
More like an attempted death in my family, I think, forcing myself to put on a disappointed expression.
“I was pretty disappointed, too,” I reply. There’s nothing else I can say. What am I going to tell Mr. Crichton? That I’m actually an Aberrant and that Austin Spencer is a new super villain, aka The Cloak, intent on taking me down and taking the Vestige for himself and controlling the population - including him?
Not a chance. I need to pretend that I’m oblivious. So, I do.
“Hopefully he gets everything taken care of that he needs to,” I add.
Mr. Crichton pulls a skeptical expression.
“Whatever his reason was,” he says, “it was bad enough for him to take down his entire portfolio. His website basically went dark. He’s not taking on any new commissions.”
“Maybe it’s one of those cold turkey social media things,” I say.
Mr. Crichton nods, then takes a breath.
“So, taking into account these recent developments,” he says, stretching back in his seat, “I wouldn’t be upset if you needed an extension on the series. The thirty days are up, and I don’t know if Austin left you any of his designs.”
“No,” I say, without hesitating. “He didn’t leave me his designs, but I don’t need them.”
This causes Mr. Crichton to straighten back up.
“Oh?” he replies. “You don’t need an extension?” His eyebrows raise.
“No, I do not,” I say. “Because I’ve already come prepared with my own designs.”
I drop a portfolio on the desk in front of him. It lands with a dull thud owing to the amount of paper inside.
Mr. Crichton picks up the brown portfolio and opens the clasp, eyeing me for a moment. Then he turns his attention fully to the stack of white paper that slides out into his hand.
He flips through my thirty page outline, then my character designs, followed by samples of dialogue. I watch him at ease, leaning back in my seat with my arms crossed.
When he gets to the end he is speeding through the pages like someone skimming ahead on a good book. Then he reaches the end, his eyebrows pinned to the top of his face.
“These are really good,” he says, returning to the front of my packet.
“Yeah?” I reply, to which he nods.
“Especially for someone who had to start from scratch after your artist abandoned ship.” He places the paper down on the desk and fixes his stare at me, amusement in his eyes. “I couldn’t have orchestrated a more effective and telling test for you. Most writers would have thrown up their hands in defeat, but instead you show up not only with your outline complete, but character and environment sketches. These are really exceptional, and close to what your father used to draw.”
He brings a hand to his lips and rubs his thumb against them. There’s a long pause as I let him think.
Then, “So, what do you think?” I ask.
He places his hands around the portfolio and hands it back to me.
“I think you’ve got yourself a job,” he replies.
A feeling of butterflies erupts in my gut and I nearly lose my grip on the portfolio. A few pages start to slip off the top and I snatch them up quickly, tapping them back into the leather case.
“That’s a big relief,” I say, a smile plastered on my face.
Mr. Crichton nods. “For you and me both. I think your father’s series is finally on its way to a conclusion.”
He gets to his feet and so do I, heading to the door. Mr. Crichton rests a hand on my back as he opens the door and lets me out first.
“Check with Peyton down in the lobby,” he says. “She will have the contract for you. Don’t worry about signing it right away. You’re welcome to take it and look it over to be sure that it’s to your liking. I think you’ll find that we’ve been quite generous.”
“I’m sure,” I reply. “I’ll read it over carefully.”
“We take care of our own here.”
We stop outside his door and Crichton holds out a hand to me.
“I’m part of the family now,” I joke.
“You were always part of the family,” Mr. Crichton corrects me, shaking my hand. “But, now it’s business official. I think that this is the start of something special. I’m excited to see where your career goes from here, Mr. Boding.”
I take my hand back and grip my portfolio.
“So am I,” I reply.
32
Targeted
The sun is setting by the time I catch Mae at the end of her shift at the store. I spot her across the parking lot in the orange and pink glow. She looks tired, but I hope that my news cheers her up. I get out of my car and catch her attention with a wave.
“Hey,” I say as she comes towards me.
“Hey,” she replies with the hint of a smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you out here tonight?”
“I have some news to share with you,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. “And I didn’t want to text it.”
“Good news, I hope?” Mae replies. The summer wind tugs at our clothes, giving a small bit of relief after the hot days we’ve just had. Mae’s hair blows across her eyes and she tucks it back.
“I think so,” I say. “I went to see the publishing house today.” I can’t help but smile.
“Oh yes?” says Mae.
I nod.
“Mr. Crichton is oblivious to Austin’s real nature. He still thinks that Austin had a death in the family, or something like that. But, I was able to use his departure to propose that instead of being teamed up with an artist, I should be the one to completely finish Super Guy, art and all.”
Mae blinks, folding her arms across her chest.
“And did he buy it?”
My smile widens.
“I’ve got the job!”
Mae hurries forward.
“That’s wonderful news!” she says, wrapping her arms around me.
I return the hug and say, “Thanks. I really wasn’t expecting to get the job completely, but it turns out that my sketches a
nd outline were good enough that Crichton said he had faith in me to do the series justice. Of course, it’s very hush-hush until the press conference in the fall, so don’t tell anyone.”
Mae is practically bouncing on her feet with excitement.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she says. “You know I can keep a secret.”
We both share in my triumph for another moment, then Mae leans forward unexpectedly and kisses me on the cheek. Her lips are warm and soft. When she steps back I bring a hand to my cheek as if to keep the imprint of her lips in place on my skin. She laughs.
“Sorry,” she says. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s alright,” I reply, my cheeks reddening. I clear my throat and look away. “It looks like I have a lot of work ahead of me. But, it will be fun.”
“You will be fine,” says Mae. “Now you have an excuse to make an art studio at your mom’s house. Your father’s artwork will get a new life.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Mae looks like she’s about to say something else, but suddenly her phone goes off with a single chime.
“What’s that?” I ask as she pulls the phone out of her pocket.
“I’ve got a Google alert…” she says, unlocking the phone.
“A Google alert?” I reply. “For what?”
Her eyes scan the screen and she scrolls down a few times. Her expression goes from glee to solemn and her eyebrows lower over her eyes.
“That’s not good…”
“What isn’t?” I move so that I can look over her shoulder at the screen and squint as I make out the article. It’s a bunch of text accompanied by a video.
Mae’s eyes widen and she tries to pull the phone away from me.
“You really don’t want to -”
“Play the video,” I say, and Mae reluctantly starts the video, cupping her hands around the edges of the phone so that the sound will be easier to hear. The video buffers for a few seconds, then a news anchor begins to speak.
“Boston police responded to a call earlier this evening that reported an alleged hostage situation just outside the city. Though no hostages were found, officers encountered a male in his late teens wearing what appeared to be a disguise. His motives were not apparent, but he was reported to be armed with some sort of explosive weaponry that destroyed a doorway in an abandoned warehouse. He is still at large.
“One officer, who wished to remain anonymous, managed to snap a picture of the teen before he fled the facility.”
I grimace as a blurry picture of me fades onto the screen. The news team believe it’s important enough to take up the entire frame. Though nobody can make out my features due to my head being turned, and my body is blurred, there is no mistaking that the photo is of me dressed up like Fallout.
I glance at Mae who has a grave expression on her face.
“Anyone with information regarding this dangerous individual is encouraged to contact police at the number below…”
“Stop the video,” I say, and Mae brings her phone down to her side. I can’t believe what I just saw. How did those cops have a chance to snap a picture of me when I barely escaped without being hit by bullets? Not only did they have a picture of me, they also saw me use my pulse blasts. At least they didn’t realize that the blasts were coming directly from my hands, if the reporter is to be believed.
I let out a deep breath.
“Great,” I say. “So, now I’m not just a target for The Drone and The Cloak, but for the entire city of Boston.”
Mae places a hand on my arm.
“Looks like it was good timing to put our Aberrant identities in a box, hm?”
I look out across the parking lot at the cityscape beyond. All the lights are coming on, sparkling like great grids and beacons on the black frames of the skyscrapers. Car engines collect together to produce a never-ending hum of activity with people commuting home from work and other errands.
“I suppose,” I reply, still gazing out at the lights that once were so beautiful to me. But, now they are a source of new anxiety. “The city is a big place. It seems even bigger now that people are going to be looking out for Fallout.”
Mae gives me a hopeful smile.
“All the more reason to be a normal person,” she says.
“You’re right,” I mutter, still listening to the sounds of the busy city. “Fallout is only making an appearance if people’s lives are at stake. I just hope that the city is able to fend for itself when The Cloak attacks.”
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also by Franklin Kendrick
Contents
Half-Title
Heroes and Villains
Flagrant Missing
The Cloak
The Sidekick
Burgers and Fries
Test Run
Return To Civilization
Advice
The Forums
The Proposal
Austin Spencer
Back To The Woods
A Warm Welcome
The Run-In
Aberrant Training Begins
Super Speed
The First Vision
Responsibilities
Resurfaced
Attack and Pursuit
The Drop-off
Boiling Point
The Production Meeting
The Cave
Sebago National Park
The Second Vision
The Invisible Enemy
Costumes
Spire Tech
The Villain Unmasked
The Master Plan
The New Guard
Decisions
Targeted
Stay Up To Date
The Aberrant Series (Book 2): Super Vision Page 18
